Magic
by ephemeral PLEASURES
Summary: The final moments before Fred's death as told through George's eyes. Where the brothers began, and how far they've come; that's real magic.


Magic is only as strong as the one who wields it. Magic is a tool held by the craftsman. Magic is endless, so long as there are new ideas. Magic is –

Pointless. This whole adventure was utterly pointless, he bitterly thought. After having snuck away from their mother, Fred and George had managed to quietly escape to the backyard where they had stashed the latest fireworks. Now, the lengths at which these boys went to obtain these magical fireworks, is an adventure in and of itself. Needless to say, it involved a lot of manipulation, and a bit of innocent smiling. However, the crucial moment was finally here, where they would finally ignite them and watch the chaos unfold. See, the twins had been planning this Christmas for an entire year. A bunch of Weasleys packed into the Burrow, just waiting to be pranked; what could be better? They'd been behaving themselves for weeks now, causing their mother to be incredibly suspicious. Yet now was the time. They quickly shoved as many of the rockets into their pants and hurried back to the dinner party. They washed the dirt from their hands, (the fireworks had been secretly hidden in a ditch they'd dug a week prior), and slid into their seats next to their Uncle Billius. He'd get a kick out of this. Fred resisted smirking at his older brother Percy as he lectured a distant cousin of his late success at Hogwarts. He was only a second year but already was "at the top of the class." Meanwhile, George fidgets restlessly, the fireworks being very uncomfortable in his pants. When his mother shot him a nasty glare from a couple seats away, the boy stopped moving entirely. Finally, her piercing gaze drifted back to Ginny as she once again spilled her mashed potatoes.

"Ready, Georgie?" Fred asked in a hushed whisper, a mischievous grin glued to his face.

George gave a short nod before sliding a few rockets from his pants. He offered it to Fred, who looked down at it a bit confused. "Go on, Fred! Light it."

Fred groaned, "Don't you have the match?"

"Huh? Why would I have a match? I thought we were going to use a lighter?"

"Do we even own a lighter?"

"Good point. Maybe Dad'll have one, in his room. I'll go check–"

An ominous shadow loomed over them. grabbed each of he boys by an ear, not hesitating to embarrass them in front of the company. The twins yelped in pain, the fireworks falling to the ground, but yelling was even louder; "Magic fireworks? Bet you thought that would cause quite a fuss, didn't you two? Ruining an entire days work for a good laugh, hm? Just be happy I didn't catch you after you'd gone and blown the meal up! I oughta send you up to bed without supper!"

Most of the room was quiet, except for a few drunken uncles who seemed to preoccupied with singing a famous Qudditch fighting song. Fred whined while looking back from his mother to his brother, "M-Mum, we weren't gonna light'em! W-We don't have a match, see? George and I just wanted to look at them."

Weeks of planning down the drain, they both thought after Mrs. Weasley confiscated the rockets from them. Both boys sat, sulking in their chairs, pushing their peas around with their fork. What now? George gave a large sigh, and slumped in his seat before saying, "Got any dung bombs left?"

"Nah, we set the last ones off in Ron's room after he tattled on us for bullying the garden gnomes."

"Right. Bloody hell, what're we gonna do, Fred? This was gonna be our year!"

They brooded throughout dinner and into the late evening. Ron was getting each cheek pinched by aunts and grandmothers alike, while baby Ginny was cooing happily with her father. Percy was waiting for his next audience member to show, eager to brag about Hogwarts, while Charlie and Bill played a violent game of wizard's chess with their Uncle Billius as commentator. Mrs. Weasley was gossiping in the kitchen, leaving Fred and George to dodge relatives left and right until they managed to escape upstairs. It wouldn't be long before they got their wands and a whole new world opened up to them. And just a few more years past that and they could do just about anything with magic, free of the underage trace. Yet, that seemed like lifetimes away, and for the depressed youths, there seemed to be no end in sight.

Fred flopped onto his bed, frowning in pain when he crushed something beneath the sheets. "Ow, what the – Hey, George look at this! Santa's come early this year, mate."

There, poking out of the blankets, a bit broken but waiting to be used, was one very large magic firework. They both wondered how it managed to get up here, but came to the same conclusions, "Dad!"

Now, the boys weren't about to make the same mistake twice, and finding a lit candle, they snuck back downstairs. They hid in the shadows of a long hallway, hearing the laughter and festivities only a few feet beyond. George held the dripping handle, while Fred clung tightly to the firework. They paused before the doorway to peek. Everyone was there it looked like. Whispering, George muttered, "Now, hold it straight." With a very precise aim, Fred pointed the rocket straight at their Aunt Muriel. George held the flame to the string and they both watched the rope ignite quickly. Three…two…one…

There was a loud bang. George ducked under a flying curse as rubble tumbled from the crumbling walls. A death eater cackled wickedly when another spell almost hit the twin. George didn't hesitate to send jinxes and hexes flying back, yelling anything that came to mind. "Stupefy!" It hit the cloaked figure in the chest, sending him flying back. George sprinted through the debris, hurtling over falling pillars and statues. He passed familiar faces; Flitwick was taking on an opponent three times his size, but the twin didn't worry. Charms had been one of his favorite classes, and he knew the spell power in the tiny body of his former teacher. Other order members threw an assortment of colors at their enemies, some missing and ricocheting off nearby landmarks. George stopped to yell, "Expelliarmus!" at a death eater, they're wand soaring into the air, and landing in a heap of stones. That'd buy whoever he was fighting some time, he thought as he continued to weave in and out of the wreckage. He wanted to get back to his family, feeling uneasy about being so far.

George had spotted Yaxely and had taken off after him without thinking. The death eater was crafty, and easily escaped his view. Soon, George was trying to escape the barrage of curses around him. Finally, though, he made it back to the Great Hall, where his mother was fighting beside McGonagall. He approached his mother, sweat and blood dripping down his face. She paused her fighting to look at her son, wincing once again at his lack of ear. "Where's Fred?" George huffed as his mother held his face in her warm hands.

"With Percy. Stay here with Ginny. There are too many for Minerva and I to handle."

As she spoke those words, a flash of light came whizzing towards them, only to be defected by McGonagall's shield. "What are you talking about, Molly? If you can't handle the heat, I suggest you stay out of the kitchen!" With a dazzling smile, and array of magical jinxes spewing from her wand, Professor McGonagall turned back to her foes. Mrs. Weasley gave a sad smile, before kissing her sons cheek and heading back into the throws of battle. George looked for his sister, not surprised she'd left.

He'd find her first, hoping to God she wasn't with Harry. That would put her in the most dangerous position possible, at this point. George climbed a stairway, his long legs taking two steps at a time. Now above, he surveyed the ground, trying to see through smoke, and hear through screams. There was another loud bang, and he saw a gargoyle explode. The order members were slowly shrinking back, and back, overtaken by the death eaters. He couldn't spot his sister anywhere, but managed to pick out Lupin. There was so much going on, George didn't know where to look first. Another explosion and George began running. He decided that he would just try to take down as many bloody death eaters as he could, thus protecting his family in the process. More loud noises; George ran faster.

He found himself back on the main floor, all the way on the east side of the building. The twin had navigated through secret passages he'd found in his first year with Fred. As he exited a tunnel behind a lonely portrait, George stupefied a nearby enemy. A pleasant smiling girl called to him, "Thank you, George! He was a nasty fellow." Luna's blonde hair twirled and disappeared behind a corner as she ran. More and more faces turned up as he fought; Kingsley, Tonks, even Bill. Where was his sister, or his twin for that matter?

After he spotted a flash of red hair, George nearly killed himself as he sprinted down a hallway. At the end, he could see a dazzling light show, and heard much shouting. A high pitched girl's voice was yelling spells at lightening speed, a much lower voice repeating them as well. Round the corner, George found Ron and Hermione battling two death eaters. He cast his own spells, knocking a death eater backwards, only to be finished off by Hermione's petrifying curse. He beamed at his brother, always feeling more at ease when a family member was around; "So, how are you two?" They both gave lopsided smiles as a response while they caught their breath. "Seen Ginny anywhere?"

"Yeah," grunted Ron, cracking his neck and groaning. "With Harry, what you expect?" George sighed, accepting the truth, but feeling just as worried as he had been before.

Hermione caught on to his anxiety and piped up, "Don't worry! Ginny is a great duelist. And Harry won't let anything happen to her."

"You're right! In Harry we trust, eh? Aha, well, best be finding Fred then. He's completely useless without me, you know. Haven't seen him or Percy by chance?" They shook their head. "Blimey, well, not going to find'em by stayin' here. Keep safe you two. Bye!" George trotted off back the way he'd come, slipping behind a tapestry and down another hallway. He popped up near the southern end of the school, and heard more screaming. His stomach twisted in knots, wondering which scream belonged to which victim. George pressed on. The school had never seemed bigger to him. He longed to find the end to this maze. It was only a matter of time before he would be reunited with Fred, but he wanted it to be sooner rather than later.

Suddenly, a large explosion sent George flying backward. It had been so quick he didn't have time to realize what had happened. The rocket was whizzing into the room, dancing all around the guest while spurting colorful sparkles. It also made wonderfully horrible siren sounds, and large popping noises. Everyone was screaming and flailing to avoid being hit by the loose firework. George laughed at the frenzy, rubbing the back of his head where he'd hit the wall. That was one powerful firework, he'd thought. He paused to comment to his brother, "Wicked, right Fred? …Fred?"

There wasn't an answer. Fred was lying next to him, face down on the floor, his hands covered in blood and seared badly. The rocket had exploded while he'd been holding it, a fatal error the boys hadn't counted on. Thankfully, the twin had hit his head hard enough on the wall to be knocked out; otherwise he'd be yelling in excruciating pain. George stared, frozen in place at the body of his brother. "F-Fred?" he chocked out, a shaky hand touching his shoulder. He tried to wake him, but Fred was out cold.

It wasn't long before someone came. One of his aunts's screamed, and George could only look up at his mother's horrified face. She immediately picked up Fred's limp body, and with the help of , the two set him down on the couch. George fell back behind his relatives, filled with shame. Meanwhile, he heard his mother muttering healing spells through sorrowful breaths. He knew she was crying. George could feel it though he couldn't see. Ron appeared beside him, crying himself, and wailed, "Fred's dead! H-He's dead! I s-s-saw him!"

"N-No! He's not d-dead! HE'S NOT DEAD!"

His mouth tasted of ash and blood. His limbs felt heavy, and his eyes stung. Having only one ear made it all the harder to hear, but George was set on finding Fred. He knew Percy was with him, so he had no reason to panic yet, but a large unsaid truth was forming in the back of his throat. George felt something he tried to suppress, a feeling he tried to deny as he frantically searched for some sign of the others. Passing by other allies, George didn't stop; he couldn't stop. He was more important, Fred was more important. A feeling similar to a memory he had one Christmas many years ago began to burn in his chest; helplessness. Where was he? Why couldn't he find him?

With each step he could be moving closer or farther away from his twin. They could look the same, act the same, and finish each other sentences; so why couldn't he find him when it really mattered? George felt his heart racing, his own personal safety becoming second to his need to find his other half. Though he was nearly struck down by a curse, or falling brick, George didn't stop. He clung to the hope that everything would be fine, that this would just end up being another memory to look back on.

It was a long time before George forgave himself. Though Fred was healed and feeling brand new the next day, the other twin had been wounded deeply. No amount of magic could heal it though. A fear had grown in George. Fred tried everything to cheer him up, and though each day made the fear a little more bearable, George would never fully recover. With enough time, the boy would begin to laugh and smile again with his brother, the two going back to pranking. Fred was no wiser of his brother's pain, and George was thankful for that. He quietly held onto his Christmas memory. The feeling was never quiet as strong as it had been that evening, though. Not even during their time apart during the battle over Little Whinging.

In the midst of the battle, the red head had managed to dodge a jinx cast by who knows, and was back up when he fell over a body. The sprawled out body was covered in the remains of Hogwarts, and lying face down on the ground. George stayed perfectly still, eying the person's back. Their clothes were torn, blood pooling around their broken limbs. George forced his terrified body towards the other, and flipped him over. "No!" he cried, feeling his stomach drop. A pale faced Remus Lupin lay dead before him. George barely had time to sob before a curse sent the large rock guarding them flying in every direction. A wicked smirk belonging to Dolohov eyed the twin as he crouched over the body. George fumbled to stand, barely able to think let alone duel. When Dolohov began shouting, the boy croaked a weak shield, which failed and sent him tumbling backwards. Was he to die? Was he to leave his brother behind? Maybe that was for the best, maybe that was the easiest thing to do at this point. Just when he had subjected himself to death, George heard a voice.

Flitwick? He was battling Dolohov off. George sat up, feeling dazed from his head hitting something rather hard. Flitwick was shouting something. It was painful to concentrate, but George did his best. "Get—Great Hall—" It didn't make sense. He needed more pieces. Managing to stand, George wobbled toward the Charms teacher to listen more carefully. "Get the body to the Great Hall!" George gave a small acknowledgement as he watched Flitwick easily deflect Dolohov's enchantment. He then stooped down to heave the dead Lupin off the ground, wrapping one arm around his waste. Then he shuffled off, wondering how close he'd been to the hall. George had a hard time remembering how to get the Great Hall, feeling warm blood trickling down the back of his neck.

His knees were weak, and Lupin's weight was almost too much. "George!" Who said his name? "George! Oh my God – George!" She was crying. Ginny had tears streaming down her face as she ran towards them. When she managed to get to them, Ginny was sobbing, shaking her head furiously. "I-Is he dead? P-Please tell me he's not dead! H-how did this h-happen?" Ginny wiped her eyes, still letting out pitiful cries.

"Ginny…Get back…to the hall…before y-you're hurt. Mum's…real worried…" George sunk to his knees, Lupin slipping from his grasp. Ginny gasped and hurried to her brother's side. George tried to assure her he was fine, only to sway unconvincingly.

Ginny whimpered, "Y-You're bleeding! Here let me h-help."

He gave a weak resistance, and let Ginny roam his head for his gash. It was on the back of his head, a deep wound that was leaking blood quickly. Ginny took a deep breath before muttering a healing spell. "AH! SHIT – OWWWWW!" The wound was stitching itself back up. George hadn't felt such pain in a while, not since nearly blowing off his nose during one of the twin's experiments-gone-wrong. Ginny focused harder, fighting through the tears. Finally finished, George exhaled and paused for a moment. He closed his eyes and muttered, "Where'd…you learn that?"

"H-Hermione taught me some stuff. And I watched Mum. …Are you okay?" She was shaking all over, and George managed a small smile.

He used a nearby piece of rubble to push himself up. "Yeah, I'm okay." He turned to look at Lupin and felt another twinge of sorrow. He thought of Tonks, and their child. He would have been a great father, and they robbed him of that joy. In their mourning, George realized that there was silence. He blinked and looked around, seeing nothing but wreckage. "G-Ginny, where is everyone?"

She was approaching Lupin's other side, helping her brother carry him when she said; "Didn't you hear? Voldemort called a momentary truce. He's allowing us to… to find our d-dead. And, if Harry turns himself over, h-he'll call the f-fight off." Ginny went pale. Tears once again formed in her eyes as they began to walk. George swallowed hard. If he was in Harry's shoes, it was an all too easy decision to make. Ginny knew it as well. But, she argued, "Th-there has to be another way! I-I won't let him die for nothing."

George was at a lost. On the one hand, he agreed with his sister, wanting to stop Harry from doing the inevitable. On the other hand, how could he ask that of him? George would lay down his life for anyone of his family and friends. He's here fighting to protect his loved ones. How could he ask Harry to stay? They walked in silence, Ginny guiding them closer and closer to the hall. In the silence, others seem to immerge. Other schoolmates followed, along with the members of the Order. All of them walked like on a death march to an ugly fate. Outside of the Great Hall's doors, Kingsley and McGonagall stood talking somberly. When they looked up to see the three of them, their faces went white as ghosts.

"Oh, Remus!" McGonagall mumbled behind her hands.

Kingsley clenched his jaw tightly, approaching his dead friend. A few moments later, he cleared his throat, "Put him with his wife." Even his deep, steady voice seemed to be filled with utter anguish.

Ginny was crying again at the realization that Tonks was dead. McGonagall began to reach around her shoulder, only to look up at George. Suddenly she stopped, her eyes widening, wet with tears. "K-Kingsley," she whispered. He seemed to already know what she wanted because he took Lupin from George's grasp. Ginny had stopped crying to look at McGonagall, who had gone stiff. She looked long and hard at the two of them, before speaking slowly and deliberately; "Come, you should see this."

Opening the door, George noted her frailty. He'd never seen McGonagall so distressed before. Even while battling the death eaters, she seemed to be in control. Unaware of what lay beyond the great doors, George followed his teacher clutching his sister's hand tightly. A very unnerving feeling arose within him, as if he was watching the string on the firework burning away. Three…two…one…

"F-Fred?"

Magic is only as strong as the one who wields it. Magic is a tool held by the craftsman. Magic is endless, so long as there are new ideas. Magic is –

The bond between two brothers, even after death.


End file.
